


Having A Heart

by Kona



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Comfort, Depression, Dorothea Has Opinions, Dorothea Is Judgemental, F/M, Minor Dorothea Arnault/Sylvain Jose Gautier, New perspectives, Sylvain Jose Gautier Has Feelings, Sylvain Jose Gautier Has Issues, Sylvain Jose Gautier Needs A Hug, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:27:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29645739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kona/pseuds/Kona
Summary: Sylvain was handsome.It was an unfortunate reality of life. Sylvain Gautier was made of the stock that most nobles could only dream of. Tall with broad shoulders, a slim waist, and a symmetrical face with just the right amount of jaw and cheek. Unique carrot orange hair, curled just so in a carefree sweep. He had large hands and was corded with muscles, two things that stuck out when he trained shirtless in the training yard. He was the sort of handsome that painters would be likely to cry over to beg for this noble young man to be their muse.It was a pity that his personality was so ugly.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Kudos: 26





	Having A Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I continue to write about Sylvain and Dorothea and cannot be stopped. This time I continue on my never ending quest to write all my ships with these two. (And I'm like, not even halfway through like yikes). Anyways, enjoy the sads.

Sylvain was handsome.

It was an unfortunate reality of life. Sylvain Gautier was made of the stock that most nobles could only dream of. Tall with broad shoulders, a slim waist, and a symmetrical face with _just_ the right amount of jaw and cheek. Unique carrot orange hair, curled just so in a carefree sweep. He had large hands and was corded with muscles, two things that stuck out when he trained shirtless in the training yard. He was the sort of handsome that painters would be likely to cry over to beg for this noble young man to be their muse.

It was a pity that his personality was so ugly.

That was what Dorothea figured anyways. 

His beautiful lips were always curled in disingenuous smiles and smirks. He spoke honeyed words that never meant anything, and he spoke them often to every girl he could. His kisses meant nothing, and his embraces even less. The way his smiles never reached his eyes when he would talk to the young ladies on campus clued her in in an instant.

Sylvain Gautier was not to be trusted with anyone’s heart, because he didn’t have a heart of his own.

Even so, he joined the Black Eagles on a whim. When asked why, by Caspar, Sylvain had winked and pointed to their new professor. “With a teacher like that? Who wouldn’t?” Dorothea knew he wasn’t talking about her abilities. 

_Disgusting._

And yet it seemed the moment he joined he fell into the group with ease. Bantering with Caspar, trading barbs with Hubert and Ferdinand. Playing chess with Edelgard. Even Petra spoke to him with animation and open candor. 

Was she the only one who thought he was two faced?

“He isn’t so bad if you don't buy into his little game, Dorothea,” Edelgard told her over tea one time, a wry smile on her face, “Sylvain may be crude, but he has a sharp wit and is easy to talk to. I think you should give him another chance.” 

Dorothea had sighed dramatically, leaning against the princess, “Well...if you say so Edie I suppose I have no choice but to believe you. You’ve never led me astray before.” She winked at her friend and watched as Edelgard rolled her eyes. 

“I know you think he’s two faced but…” Edelgard frowned, “Everyone has their demons. Who's to say this isn’t just some coping mechanism?” 

Now that had struck Dorothea somewhat. Perhaps she just wasn’t watching at the right times to see who he was?

Or maybe he really was just a cad who didn’t care. 

But then she watched him kill his brother. 

She witnessed the pain, the anger in his eyes. The way his lance stuck firmly in the beast’s eye, a resolute final act, even as his hands trembled against the shaft. The way he crumbled to his knees in front of his brother’s broken body.

Miklan had spewed nothing but hate for the Gautier heir, and the beast he had turned into had clawed across Sylvain’s armor leaving terrible scars in the metal. Every action was aimed for his younger brother, every attack a punishment for something Dorothea couldn’t understand.

_“Miklan...My brother…"_

Sylvain’s voice as he cradled the Relic that had twisted his brother was pained, broken. Most of the rest of the class had the tact to look away and help Gilbert clear out the rest of the bandits from the tower. But Dorothea watched as the professor draped her coat over Sylvain’s shoulders and helped him to his feet. She took his old lance from the ground, and carefully guided the numbed heir out of the ruined tower. 

He’d been quiet the whole ride back to the monastery, never seeming to take his eyes off of the Lance of Ruin. Everyone had given him a wide berth, offering him condolences, but never talking too long with him. What was there to say, really? Fratricide was common in some noble circles, true, but it was usually done under cover of dark, with only whispers leaving people whispering. 

Rarely did nobles come to blows in such an ugly way, so publicly. 

When they returned to Garreg Mach, Sylvain didn’t go and immediately start flirting with students in the various courtyards. He would often brag and show off any wounds to any young woman who would swoon at them. It had always irritated Dorothea, the bald-faced egotism behind that. 

But this time, she watched as he trudged upstairs to his dorm room and locked the door. 

And then he didn’t emerge for lunch. Or dinner. 

And she watched as Ingrid, and Dimitri, and even Felix tried and failed to get him to come out and eat something. 

And then three days passed and he didn’t show up to class or training. 

And then Byleth tried and got only a slammed door in her face.

And it was at that point that Dorothea realized that maybe, just maybe, Edelgard had been right before. 

That didn’t mean she had to put up with it though. 

So she snuck into the dining hall, grabbed a few rolls and cheese and a pitcher of water and strode up to Sylvain’s room, thoroughly done with this sudden worry she had for the incorrigible flirt. She’d force him to eat, leave, and be done with it. 

No more laying in bed late at night wondering if he was okay. 

“Sylvain, are you there?” Dorothea’s knuckles rapped against the door firmly, pitching her voice somewhat low.

There was no answer and Dorothea felt anger start to rise in her chest. 

The _audacity---_

“Sylvain, open this damn door!” She hissed, opening her hand to slap against the door, “If you don’t open this door I _swear_ I’ll force it open with magic, you inconsiderat-”

Before she could finish her tirade, the door did finally open, her hand stopping midair before it smacked Sylvain in the face. 

He looked terrible. That handsome face looked gaunt, and he clearly hadn’t shaved, four days of stubble turned into the start of some horrible beard. His hair was greasy and unkempt, and his eyes looked hollow. The fact that he was only wearing pants dawned on her as she saw a smattering of bruises still lining his chest, as if he couldn’t bear to cover them. 

“Sylvain,” Dorothea began again, sweeter this time, forcing a grimace on her face, “Everyone is worried about you. May I come in?”

He wordlessly stepped aside to let her in, closing the door once she entered. His room was neat, aside from the pile of armor with gashes still sitting in the center of the room, and the Lance of Ruin leaning against a wall, 

“You need to eat something.” Dorothea forced one of the rolls into his hand, sitting him down on his bed, “Please.” she added when he merely stared at the bread. 

It was a full minute before he started to slowly eat the roll, and Dorothea let out a breath she hadn’t realized that she was holding. She poured him some water and forced the cup to his lips when he didn’t immediately take it himself. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Sylvain started to come back to life. The glossy look in his eyes faded into something more muted, and a little color returned to his face. 

“Sylvain?” 

He looked up at Dorothea, eyes swimming with something unsaid. Some pain that made Dorothea’s heart ache in a way she hadn’t expected for him. He didn’t speak, but instead he brought a hand slowly to Dorothea’s hip, gingerly palming it. 

His hand was clammy, and trembling slightly. There was a pleading in his eyes, something he couldn’t force out into words. He bowed his head, and exhaled a quivering breath.

“Could you...stay?” 

His voice was hoarse, mumbled. His other hand reached up and reached around to the small of Dorothea’s back, gripping the fabric of her jacket tightly. He tipped forward, his head colliding with her stomach, his shoulders beginning to quiver. 

This could be a ploy. This could be another attempt at getting in her skirts, Dorothea reckoned. That would solidify his cad reputation at last and she could stop thinking about him forever. But the way his breath shuddered out of his chest, and the growing wetness of her shirt where his face rested seemed to prove the opposite. 

“Okay.” She whispered, putting the cup down and carding her fingers through his hair, wincing a bit at the tangled mess. “Okay.” she repeated as he let out a silent sob and clutch all the more to her, crying softly into her clothing. 

Sylvain had a heart after all. 

What that meant for Dorothea, she didn’t know yet, but perhaps this was the start.

Perhaps.


End file.
